


Dream Big

by hanktalkin



Category: Kisses & Curses (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Makeup, Post-Canon, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: mel and mc get a package in the mail





	Dream Big

**Author's Note:**

> i got really bored in network protcols and wrote this

I ascend the spiral staircase that leads to the apartment above the boutique, small brown package tucked safely under my arm. I burst through to the second floor, triumphantly calling out, "Melllll! I have a thing! You should come pay attention to me."

Melanie appears a moment later, already half-prepared for the exhibition tonight. She's done the beginnings of her make-up, highlights expertly contouring her and making her glow even without the glamour. It's even sharper when she raisers an eyebrow and says, "a thing? Like a evil cursed thing? A delicious strudel you picked up from the bakery thing? A picture of a tree that kind of looks like a face thing? C'mon hon, you gotta give me more to work with."

"Iiiit's a present thing!" I pull the package from behind my back and hold it out.

Melanie walks forward, purple bathrobe swishing across the carpet. She examines it, careful with her nails still drying. "Man. I knew you were bad at wrapping but this really takes the cake," she smirks.

"It's a present for both of us," I say, and turn it over so she can read the from address.

"Ty's sending us things?" she asks. "All the way to Paris? Damn, that must be one heck of a shipping bill."

"He's too good for us," I agree solemnly. "Help me open it?"

"You go ahead, I need to put on some real clothes."

As I peel away the brown paper, she comes back wearing the gown she'd chosen for the evening. It's long and silky, haute couture and probably with a name I would know if I had any inkling of high fashion. Veronika von Reylander helped Melanie pick it out, and it was her who had set up tonight's expedition in the boutique. Whatever suspicion I still had for Veronika six months ago had vanished in her generosity; She's made Melanie so happy, and I try to remember every now and again how much we owe her.

I tore away the last of the paper. The box now revealed, I reach inside to pull out-

"Is that...a gnome?"

"Uhh..." I say. Because it is, indeed, a gnome.

It's missing its little hat and beard that you usually see garden gnomes wearing, but other than that it's unmistakably a carved wooden gnome, right down to the lovingly crafted paint job.

"Did he make us a gnome because we're witches?" Melanie asks. "Because if so that's magic-ist."

"It's not magic-ist," I defend. "It's...quirky?"

"Well it's certainly not what I was expecting."

"What _were_ you expecting?"

"Don't know," Melanie shrugs. "A table?"

"A table that fits in this box?"

"A really tiny table then. You know, like for dioramas."

I snort, and lift up the gnome. "Well, regardless, it's a gift. We should put it somewhere."

I start to place it in the windowsill when Melanie says, "really? You don't find it at all...creepy?"

"What? Psssh, no. It's cute!" And by the way Melanie raises her eyebrow at me I know I'm not very convincing.

Once it's in the window she tells me, "speaking of cute things, get your pretty little booty ready for the exhibition. It's starting in four hours."

"Oh no!" I say in artificially haughty voice. "The time is practically upon us!"

"No jokes," she says, starting to push me toward the vanity in our room. "What if I need you to help work the register?"

"Me? Work?" I ask, using the same voice from before. "But I'm not meant to work, I'm meant to be the housewife of a very successful boutique owner, who drinks wine and takes long walks on the Seine."

"Did I just hear the word 'wife' slip in there?" Melanie says, her grin reflected in the vanity mirror.

"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't," I tease in singsong. "Who can tell when the past is gone and the future is yet to come?"

She snorts, and begins to work on my glamour. By the time she's done I'm ethereal, her work so complete I barely recognize myself. And, well, that's the point really. If I'm meant to sell people on Melanie's products tonight, I'm a shoe-in.

"There," she says, idly tucking her chin on my shoulder. "Perfect."

"I'm already perfect," I remind her.

"Yes. But now you're more perfect." I almost escape before she looks down and adds, "oh, except I forgot to do your nails."

"Noooo," I whine. "You always make my nails too long. I like them short."

"There's a gay joke in there somewhere," she says already working her magic, (pun intended).

"You're a gay joke."

"Ah! There it is."

It takes another ten minutes but finally she lets me free into the living room again, where I promptly plop onto the chaise.

" _Que pensez-vous de cela_?" Melanie practices to herself, still rushing around with several hours to go. "Does that sound right to you? Do I have to change it to masculine if I'm talking to a man?"

"Mel," I begin, "if you're looking for French advice, you're talking to the wrong woman." To demonstrate, I lounge back dramatically on the chaise and proclaim, " _Où se trouvent les toilettes_?"

Melanie laughs and I rise, glad to see her relax for once. "It's going to be great," I reasure her, tugging on her elbows. " _You’re_ going to be great."

"I will, won't I?" she says, and I almost see her believe it.

I kiss her, and I feel her relief as she melts into it. Tonight might be the most important night of our lives (forgetting the whole saving the world buissness.) It's hard to forget that, no matter how wonderful it's going to be.

Melanie pulls back. "Thank you. For being...just thanks."

"No problem Mel," I smile.

"There's just one thing..."

"Name it."

"If we're going to make-out now, can we turn the gnome around?"

"Uhg. Killjoy."


End file.
